Repercussions
by She-Elf23
Summary: It's not all smooth sailing while on the Victory Tour for Katniss and Peeta. An outbreak of violence while on the tour leaves Peeta injured and Katniss worried and reflective. (If you like fluff and hurt/comfort/angst, then this oneshot is for you. Also includes Haymitch and Effie.)


Hello, all! Been forever since I've uploaded a story and this time I'm stepping out of the realm of Lord of the Rings and into the Hunger Games. I actually wrote this short story a long time ago (as well as a few other HG stories that may or may not make an appearance out on Fanfiction...haven't decided that yet) and takes place during the beginning of Catching Fire when Katniss and Peeta are on their tour of the districts and making speeches. It's all mainly just fluff but I hope you enjoy it for what it is. Please leave reviews! I love reviews and feedback...

* * *

"In conclusion, we want to thank you all for your District's service to the Capitol. Without you, your hard work, and the donated lives of your tributes, we would not be able to live in the safe and structured world that we do now."

It's all a lie. A lie and he knows it. We both know it. And as I look out over the faces of the crowd of District 7, I know they don't believe a word of what Peeta is saying either. But each district on this victory tour has so far been the same story. We tell them what we've been instructed to tell them out of fear of our families back home, but all they see are the two darlings of the Capitol, the star-crossed lovers of District 12, living high and mighty on the President's handouts. How wrong they are. Peeta and I don't live in luxury, not really anyway. Yes, we live in the Victor's Village and receive more than sufficient funds each month, but we live in a prison—a cold, dark prison that's getting darker each day. But who isn't in the districts? We're all pointing fingers, but we're all in the same cell. My dire thoughts are poisoning my facial expression and I struggle to spread my smile wider. Not that it matters. Nobody believes me surely. I certainly wouldn't. My thoughts turn back to Peeta's speech.

"Peace does not come without a price. Your fallen tributes are a testament to that fact. So let us together as a unified Panem remember their loss as a necessary sacrifice for the greater good and security of the rest of us." I hear Peeta's strong voice tremor just slightly. We both feel like such traitors for saying these words. And this District, like the rest, is no fool. A lone voice somewhere from the crowd cries out, interrupting Peeta.

"When did taking another's life become a common necessity?"

Peeta pauses ever so slightly at the interruption before regaining his place and continuing his speech. "In remembrance of the darker days, let's recall the purpose of the games in order to prevent such a horrific reoccurrence and preserve our way of life…"

"How is sending children to fight to their death not horror?"

"And how is this living?"

"Why don't you return to the Capitol where you belong!"

The insults come hard and fast as chaos begins to slowly boil over. I begin to grow fearful of the crowd but watch as Peeta's jaw hardens and his eyes become like steel. He glances briefly over at Haymitch who is off to the side of the stage with Effie. I know he wants to say what's really on his mind—that we don't like the Capitol any more than they do, but we don't want another bloodbath like what happened in District 11. Haymitch starts to shake his head "no" but it's too late. The angry energy of the crowd has led them to try and charge the stage. This ignites the Peacekeepers who instantly tighten up their ranks and raise their guns.

It's awful to watch from Peeta's and my position, atop of the crowd and untouchable. The crowd does not abate and still rushes forward toward the Peacekeepers. We both hear the foreboding click of the soldiers' guns as the angry crowd draws closer, almost upon us. As a last, desperate act, Peeta quickly steps closer to the microphone and cries out "Wait!" But his call is too late as the first of multiple shots rings out.

Everything is chaos. Screaming fills the heavy air and gunshots fire haphazardly into the crowd as more Peacekeepers rush past us. I can't move, as if my feet were glued to the stage, mesmerized by the horror of it all. I finally feel a firm hand that reeks of alcohol grip my collar and yank me backwards towards the building behind us. My feet stumble underneath me as I try to match the rushed, reversing pace, but my gaze remains fixed on the violence unfolding in front of me. It's not until the heavy metal door slams shut, blocking out the terrible noises outside, that I realize it's simply District 11 all over again.

"Katniss, are you all right?" frets Effie, her sherbet lime green gloves lightly patting me down in a flustered fashion. I can't even find my voice to assure her that I'm unharmed. "We should leave this horrible, horrible place at once!" our guide decides, her highly sophisticated accent very miffed. She turns to collect the rest of our party. "Haymitch?"

But Haymitch's attention, I notice, is not on the situation outside. He's hunched over…no, down on one knee beside whatever has his sole concentration. My heart clenches with realization at who that would be a second before Haymitch speaks.

"Peeta? Peeta, keep your eyes on me. Look here," Haymitch firmly instructs, his tone all seriousness and gravity. In an instant I push past Effie and in two strides am at my mentor's shoulder. My breath escapes me as I take in Peeta's dazed and pained expression, sitting limply against a stack of crates on the floor. My eyes notice blood seeping through Haymitch's fingers from where he presses hard on Peeta's left shoulder.

"Gasp! What happened?" gapes Effie in horror beside me.

"A stray bullet. Must have got him when I was dragging him back," grumbles Haymitch, but I hear the worry in my mentor's tone. I notice the color has almost instantly drained from Peeta's face, his mouth hanging open and almost panting from the shock and pain. "We need to get him back to the train and sooner rather than later," Haymitch instructs and he starts to rise to his feet. "Do you think you can stand, Peeta?" I watch Peeta faintly nod and struggle to obey. His prosthetic has made it more difficult for him to maneuver even at full capacity, but it really becomes bothersome now. I get on Peeta's other side and help Haymitch get him to his feet. Effie gets the doors and soon we're headed back, leaving the hellish mayhem behind us.

Luckily, the army truck that drove us out here to the town hall is nearby and between Haymitch and I with Peeta's help we are able to carefully load him into the truck and get him seated. Haymitch all the while tries to keep pressure on Peeta's injured shoulder and continues to maintain his strong grip throughout the entire ride. Peeta doesn't say much at all—only if he's spoken to but even then his voice comes out in a slur—and remains in a foggy haze of pain. His head eventually slides down to rest on Haymitch's shoulder, exhaustion overtaking him. I find it very unnerving that he suffers in silence, only whimpering if the truck bounces. Otherwise, he's quiet. I slip my hand into Peeta's and don't let go for both my sake and his. Effie starts to babble nonsense in a stressed, fast tone about the uncivilized peasants of District 7, the unfortunate bullet that struck Peeta—"How are we ever going to pass you off as an invincible victor now?"—and how the whole tour has only left her exhausted until Haymitch finally tells her to shut up. He beat me by one breath.

By the time the truck reaches the train depot, Peeta is about ready to pass out. Sweat is trickling down his face and neck and he's shaking. The sweat has soaked through his hair gel, causing his tamed locks to fall limply in their natural waves. Haymitch is quick to usher him to the medical train car and the door is slammed in my face before I can even begin to follow. Maybe it's just as best. I'm really not too good around medical stuff, and I'd just get in the way anyway. I elect to sit outside to wait with Effie.

Waiting for news gives me time to sort out my feelings. Of course I'm anxious about him and want him to be okay…but my heart is only now starting to unclench and calm down, knowing that he's under the care of Capitol doctors. I'm a bit angry that careless aim (or maybe it wasn't?) was to blame for all of this, but really more than that I'm just scared. I'm sure he'll make it and that he'll be fine…but the situation of course makes you consider the opposite turnout. What if he didn't make it? What if that bullet had been just half an inch closer to his heart? I immediately clamp down on that thinking because I know deep down in my heart that I wouldn't be able to handle it.

Effie, who is sitting across and aside from me, has surprisingly quieted down. She knows I'm not much of a talker, although that's probably not the reason why she's silent. I steal a glance at her face and she's staring out the window with a worried expression. She brings her fingers up to her face and nervously starts to bite one until she suddenly catches her bad manners and thrusts her disobedient hand back into her lap. She glances quickly towards me to see if I've noticed but I look away before she makes eye contact. Satisfied in thinking a deeply suppressed nervous habit is still a secret, she folds her hands to prevent her from doing it again and decides to try small talk.

"I'm sure Peeta will be fine, Katniss," she tries to console me. I'm sure my face is sour but she continues on. "The Capitol has some of the finest doctors and medicines. We always keep at least two doctors on these trains and the supply full. I'm sure Peeta will walk out of there without even a scratch!" I nod my head once but otherwise ignore her. She's still babbling about the medical skills of the Capitol but I'm sure she even realizes that I'm not listening. Or maybe not. Either way, it doesn't stop her, and I've learned quickly how to tune Effie out.

A good long while later, Haymitch exits the medcar and sighs as he notices us. I quickly stand, ready for news. Effie does the same and prompts Haymitch for details. "The boy will be fine. They got the bullet out but it was in deep and slightly wedged in his shoulder bone. He's going to be really sore for a while and will have several weeks of recovery. But there's no permanent damage." I'm very glad to hear that. Effie is pleased too, evidenced by her long content breath of relief. Haymitch continues, "He's pretty exhausted and weak from the blood loss and surgery…still a little drugged too. But you can go on in and see him if you want." I don't need another invitation and head straight for the door, Effie following behind.

I first notice that Peeta has more color than before...certainly not normal, but definitely better. This calms some of my nerves. His left arm is in a white sling and his bare shoulder is bandaged. He does look tired, but he offers us a smile nonetheless. "Hey," he quietly says.

"Oh, Peeta," Effie sighs in such a sorrowful tone, but I do believe she means it. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh...you know," Peeta shrugs and then winces reflexively. "Certainly been better. But I'll be all right."

"Thank goodness that bullet wasn't any closer to your heart!" expresses Effie and nods her thanks for the good fortune. I want to smack her for that comment, for again making me consider how bad things _really_ could have been.

"Nah, you guys can't get rid of me that easily," Peeta passes off with a smile that suddenly makes me want to kiss him, verify for myself that he's still warm and full of life.

"Well, you just rest, Peeta. You're under the best of care, you know. Nothing can trump the medical knowledge of the Capitol!" Effie declares as she bounces her hands in emphasis on the word "Capitol" like she often does.

"I am greatly appreciative," nods Peeta and sighs tiredly. Effie takes this as the cue for us to leave.

"Katniss, come. We'll let him rest a while," our escort ushers with a flick of her wrist and heads for the door. I hesitate because I don't want to leave, but I don't want to tire Peeta either. As usual, Peeta reads my nonverbal cues.

"It's alright, Effie. She can stay a bit if she likes," he offers gently. I nod in agreement and Effie sighs.

"All right, children, but don't stay up too late. Luckily we're just traveling tomorrow but the tour will still continue on. You both need your rest," she reminds us before exiting the room, leaving Peeta and me alone. Peeta chuckles quietly at Effie's mothering before sighing again.

"If you're tired, I can come back later," I quietly mention, feeling guilty about bugging him. Peeta immediately waves his good hand as if to brush off my comment.

"No, no. I want you to stay. I probably wouldn't be able to sleep anyway." I can hear the implied "without you" in his tone and give him a small smile. He pats the side of the bed and manages to scoot over to make room for me. I don't argue and climb in beside him. It's a smaller bed, not like our beds in our rooms on the train, so it's a bit of a squeeze. But it's a comfort to be this close to him, given full assurance that he is indeed alive. He wraps his good arm around me and pulls me close.

I had actually wondered how I was going to sleep tonight if I had to sleep alone. Apparently Peeta had been thinking the same thing because his hold doesn't loosen and I can feel and hear his breathing starting to slow sleepily. We both say nothing more and are later discovered the next morning by Haymitch, both of us fast asleep together.

Another day that I have my boy with the bread…

* * *

Please review and send me your thoughts...I'd love to hear! Thanks for reading!


End file.
